


Cursed

by Thunder_of_Dragons



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Auror Harry Potter, Curses, First Kiss, Fluff, Humor, M/M, Magical Accidents, St Mungo's Hospital
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-23
Updated: 2020-02-23
Packaged: 2021-02-27 21:06:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,944
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22862221
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Thunder_of_Dragons/pseuds/Thunder_of_Dragons
Summary: Harry gets cursed during a mission and is now unable to say the words love or any equivalent or similar feelings. Perfect. Just when he had worked up the courage to tell Draco how he feels.
Relationships: Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter
Comments: 5
Kudos: 333





	Cursed

**Author's Note:**

  * For [CheekyTorah](https://archiveofourown.org/users/CheekyTorah/gifts).



> Huge thanks to @CheekyTorah for the prompt! This definitely turned out a bit longer than I expected, but I’m rather pleased with how it turned out.

Harry blinked his eyes once. Twice. And then he winced in the glare of the bright light above him. He had woken up in his least favourite place in the world: St. Mungo’s. He thought he ought to be used to it by now. After all, he _had_ been an Auror for three years.

“Oh, Harry, you’re awake!” Hermione shouted from his left. Then, quieter, she queried, “How do you feel?” 

“I feel fine, actually,” he answered, blinking once more and hoping his eyes would adjust soon. He hated St. Mungo’s, hated being stuck in a bed in a cold white room when he could be out doing-- 

Bolting upright in the hospital bed, Harry frantically asked, “Hermione, what time is it?”

Hermione cast a Tempus. "It's 7:50, Harry. Why are you so concerned about the time?" 

"7:50 in the evening?" 

"Yes, Harry," Hermione sighed, "7:50 in the evening. Why is the time so important?" 

"Bugger it all!" Harry cursed. "I've only got 10 minutes. I need to leave. Where's my wand? Can I get discharged? I've only got 10 minutes to get out of here, and I have to change, and I have to pick up flowers, and I have to meet him, and I've only got 10 minutes, 'Mione! That's not enough time!"

"10 minutes for what, Harry?" Hermione asked exasperatedly. 

"I'm meeting Malfoy," Harry replied distractedly as he looked around the room. "I finally got up the courage and asked him to meet me at the pub for drinks tonight, and he said yes. Actually, he said, 'I suppose I can fit that in my terribly busy schedule, Potter, but I won't tolerate any tardiness,' and now I'm going to be late if I can't get my wand and get out of here, and I can't imagine that he'd ever give me another chance, and I _cannot_ bugger this up, Hermione." 

"Oh, Harry," Hermione whispered. "I had no idea." Swallowing, Hermione nodded resolutely as she rose from her chair, and louder, she said, "Let me go find a Healer so we can get you out of here. You're right; you can't be late for this." Reaching the door to Harry's room, Hermione called over her shoulder, "Your wand's in the bedside table, by the way. You might attempt to transfigure your clothes to save time."

"Right," Harry mouthed as he opened the drawers to the bedside table. "Transfigure my clothes. I can do that, can't I?" He paused, a blank stare overcoming his face. "I have no idea what to wear." 

Five minutes later, Hermione stepped through the doorway with a Healer. 

"Mister Potter, your friend tells me that you're ready to go," the Healer said. "I have a few questions before we can release you, but she says it's of the utmost importance that we do this quickly. Tell me, does anything feel out of place?" 

"No, ma'am." 

"And do you feel queasy or nauseous?" 

"No, ma'am," Harry replied, ignoring the churning in his stomach and hoping it was simply nerves over the quickly vanishing time before his sort-of date with Draco Malfoy. 

"Any pain?" 

"No, ma'am." 

"All right then, Mister Potter, you are free to be on your way," the Healer announced. "I must warn you to return if anything odd happens, though. We weren't able to identify the curse that took you out earlier. Any questions?" 

"No, ma'am, thank you!" Harry all but exclaimed as he bolted out of the room. He only had two minutes to make it to the pub, and he needed every second he could get.

* * *

Harry took a breath outside of The Frolicking Captain. He hadn't had time to get flowers, but that was okay; he didn't even know if Malfoy liked flowers. He also had no idea what he was going to say, but that would have to be okay seeing as he was out of time. 

Harry briefly looked over himself in his reflection in the window. He looked, well, okay, for the little time he’d had to prepare. The dark green button-down accentuated his eyes, though it was more of a pear colour around the edges. He never could transfigure his clothes correctly. Reaching up, he corrected his skewed glasses and made a feeble attempt to smooth down his hair as he reached for the door handle, even though he knew his hair was a lost cause at this point. 

Entering the pub, Harry looked around for a head of white blond hair amongst the stools and tables. Where was he? Draco had remembered, hadn't he? Harry hadn't simply imagined the whole thing?

No, there, in the last corner Harry checked, there was a man in a deep blue jumper and trim grey slacks sitting alone at a table. Draco was here; he _had_ remembered. 

Taking a deep breath, Harry walked up to the table. "I'm not too late, am I?" he asked. 

Flicking his wand out from his sleeve, Draco lazily cast a Tempus and glanced at it with his silver eyes. "No, you're exactly on time," Draco replied, "though I would have assumed you'd be early with how anxious you were to ask me here tonight." 

Harry grinned. "Can I get you anything?" 

Draco raised an eyebrow, his eyes roaming over Harry’s face and torso. "Gin. On the rocks."

* * *

Harry returned from the bar with two tumblers and slid one over to Draco. "I hope it's all right, but I took the liberty of ordering a plate of chips for us. I'm afraid I missed tea, and I'm feeling a bit peckish." 

"Not a problem, Potter." Draco looked down at his glass and swirled it gently around. "Tell me, why did you ask me here tonight?" 

"Well, I've really enjoyed getting to work with you on the Hippogriff Ownership Referendum and on overturning the ruling on Buckbeak." Harry felt his cheeks heat, and he furiously attempted to push his rising blush down. "You've really changed since we were at Hogwarts, and, well, I--" _fancy you._

Harry glared at his drink and tried again. "Malfoy, I--" _really like you._

"Yes, that is my name." Draco took a sip of his gin. "For what it is worth, I have enjoyed working with you as well. I was a rather indignant youth, and Buckbeak shouldn't have been forced to take the brunt of the blame. He’s quite the magnificent creature." Setting his drink back down, Draco wrapped the long, elegant fingers of both of his hands around the tumbler. "Now, you were saying?" 

"Ah, yes, you see, I've come to the realization that I rather enjoy spending time with you." Harry took a sip of his whisky, hoping he would be able to get the words out this time. "I--" _desire your company._ Harry huffed, wondering why he couldn't tell Malfoy how he felt. "Argh, why can't I say it?" 

"Say what?" Draco asked. 

"That I--" _like you!_ Harry shouted, grasping his hair in frustration.

Harry set his head down on the table, and Draco steepled his fingers around his glass. "This is an interesting quandary, Potter. Is your famous Gryffindor courage failing you, or are you physically unable to say the words you wish to say?" 

Harry lifted his head just enough to glance at Draco. "It's certainly not a lack of courage, Malfoy." Raising his head, he rested it on his hand. "I don't suppose you have any bright ideas?" 

Draco looked into his gin once more, biting his lip. "Actually, I do have one idea." Draco swallowed, his Adam's apple bobbing and seeming to make the silent pause in his words stretch even longer. "You know Severus Snape was my godfather, and he was an extraordinarily accomplished Legilimens and Occlumens. He taught his skills to me before he passed. Perhaps I could, ahem, attempt to read your thoughts if you can't say them?"

Harry thought about this. Could he really trust Malfoy in his mind? 

Sure, Malfoy's personality had pretty much done a 180 degree flip since the War had ended. But they'd fought each other for 7 years. He couldn't just forget their past, and he knew his own Occlumency skills were shite. Would Malfoy try to take advantage of him once he was in there? 

Eventually, Harry decided he had no other option. He didn't know why he couldn't tell Malfoy how he felt, but he wouldn't lose Malfoy over this before he even had him. 

"Just my thoughts?" Harry asked hesitantly. 

Draco nodded, looking at Harry meaningfully. "I wouldn't ask if I thought we had another option." Draco scratched absently at his left forearm. "Once you've had a lunatic trying to root around in your mind, it makes you never want to do anything similar to anyone else. I always feel dirty whenever I have to use Legilimency, but if it's the only way..."

Harry shook his head. "No," he said resolutely. "Even if it is the only way, I won't have you subjecting yourself to that. I'll just have to find another way to tell you. Maybe if I spell it out?" 

Harry pulled out his wand, cast a Lumos, turned around, and began writing in cursive with his wand. He spelled 'I' successfully, but when he tried to write 'fancy,' his wand took on a mind of its own. 

"No, that's not working." Harry sighed, turned back around, and took another sip of his whisky. Was there anything else he could do to tell Malfoy how he felt about him? Harry had already lost so many years in denial of his attraction towards this pompous but well-meaning git, and he couldn’t get the words out now that they were finally face to face.

Harry looked up at Malfoy's face, staring into the molten silver eyes that had begun to invade his nightly dreams. He traced the aristocratic nose and chin that he'd imagined tickling his neck and jaw. Harry's eyes rested on the faint pink lip that Malfoy was currently biting. 

Without thinking, Harry leaned across the table, briefly glancing at Malfoy's eyes as they widened, but Malfoy made no move to stop him. 

Harry's right hand lifted to cup the back of Malfoy's head. Harry's eyes traced Malfoy's lips once more, and he waited another moment, wondering if Malfoy would stop him. 

No, his name is Draco, Harry reminded himself. And, though Draco had taken a deep breath, he hadn't stopped him. 

Harry leaned in closer and pressed Draco's lips to his own, his own thick lips enclosing around Draco's bottom lip in a soft caress. This, at least, he could do. And Draco hadn't stopped him. In fact, Draco's lips were moving against his own now, and Harry felt one long-fingered hand come up to cup the back of his head, the fingers tangling themselves in his hair.

Biting his lip, Harry pulled back just enough to hesitantly glanced at Draco’s eyes. Seeing nothing but warmth in the gaze of the man he’d just kissed, Harry asked, "Do you understand what I was trying to say now?" 

Draco nodded, his nose rubbing against Harry's. "Yeah, yeah, I do." Draco pressed a quick kiss to Harry's lips. "This was a much better idea than Legilimency." 

Harry stroked his hand through Draco's hair, bringing his hand around to caress the side of Draco's head. "Good, so good." Harry sighed. "As much as I'd love to continue doing this, I think I need to go to St. Mungo's." 

Draco leaned back, took Harry's hand in his, and looked Harry in the eye as a soft smile graced his lips. "Then we'll go together. I'm not letting you go any time soon."


End file.
